


A Matter Of Faith

by Jenwryn



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-20
Updated: 2007-10-20
Packaged: 2017-10-02 13:09:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenwryn/pseuds/Jenwryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Ori have a foothold in the Pegasus Galaxy. It has no canon characters in it, because frankly I couldn't imagine any of them in either of the roles that the two people in this story are playing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Matter Of Faith

“I believe in one God, the Father, the Almighty, creator of Heaven and Earth, of all things seen and unseen…” The young woman paused, lifted her gaze and saw the figure standing in the doorway watching her. She tilted her head a little to one side, the brown of her hair glinting in the candlelight, and a shot of fear wriggled through her. “What are you doing here?”

The man chuckled and stepped into the room, the amber light of the candles falling dimly on his face and turning it into an amorphous mix of colour and shadows. “That wasn’t a very Christian tone, Melitta.”

She rose to her feet, her hands tightening on the back of the chair in front of her as her fingers unfolded from their prayful position and turning into something much more defensive. “We’ve had this discussion, Felix. Remember what the Colonel said. You aren’t supposed to be here.”

He smiled, a shadow of his former winning smile, “I thought the chapel was dedicated to all faiths, Melitta. How do you know I haven’t converted to Buddhism?”

She stepped sideways, out from amongst the chairs into the narrow central aisle, and shook her head slightly. “I like Buddhists. They make me feel peaceful. You’re no Buddhist, Felix. You don’t respect anything anymore, not even yourself.” Her eyes flickered down to the scars on his arms. Traces of an unhappy youth that had once made her feel sorry for him, had once made her want to take him in her arms and rock him – traces that he'd now turned them into some kind of twisted artwork; the pale silver slivers joined with ugly lumps and snaked up and down sinew and muscle.

His grin broadened and he stepped towards her. “Surely my faith is as valid as yours.”

She stepped backwards. “Worshipping the Ori is the equivalent of throwing away your soul, Felix. You heard what the Colonel explained to us when the Ori first got a foothold here in the Pegasus Galaxy. And I’ve spoken to Chaya about it. They’re tricking you. They won’t deliver what they promise. Chaya’s ascended, she should know.”

He stepped closer, “I should never have let you spend so much time with that creature. And what about your God; at least I know with certainty that mine exist. What about yours? If you call out to him now, will he give you the power to strike me dead? If I kill you, will he resurrect you?”

He reached out and cupped her cheek with his left hand. She flinched under the touch of his skin and the cold metal of his wedding ring against her flesh. She couldn’t move away from that touch. “How did you get away, Felix?” she asked in a low voice, “I thought they said they’d locked you up.”

He frowned slightly at her question, and then, for no apparent reason, quoted mockingly, “Wives should obey their husbands.”

She looked through him, “Husbands are supposed to cherish their wives. Fulfil your half and I’ll work on mine.”

He narrowed his eyes and moved his hand in a slow arc down her face to the curve of her soft neck. “I could kill you now,” he whispered with a terrifying kind of wonder in his voice, and she could feel him gathering the power in his being to do it. Could feel him reach out with his mind and squeeze her throat. But she kept her hands at her side and fought the terror; thought about her long conversations with Chaya; thought about her faith. _Oh God, please God, won’t you hear the cries of those that call to you?_ Somehow, instead of battling to breathe, she found a sea of inner silence. He must have sensed her tranquillity because, with an angry gesture, he released the pressure. She breathed in a ragged gasp of air and shut her eyes in thanks.

“You always were a cold hard bitch,” he said, and then slapped her in the face with such force that her head snapped sideways and made her already tender throat sting. The shock prickled tears against the back of her eyes and she blinked furiously. Her tongue tasted salty blood on her lips and she murmured, despite herself, “You made me what I am, Felix. I was so happy once – we were so happy once. But I’m your wife. I am what you made me.”

He took half a step backwards. There was only one window in the chapel, high on the wall where a cross might have hung in a Christian church, and now the honeyed light from it fell full onto his face, revealing more clearly than the candlelight could exactly how much his features had changed since he’d stepped onto the path of a Prior. It made her ache to see it. A sort of sick ghost of the man that she’d married, of the man that she’d loved. The man she still loved, even though he scared her half senseless.

“Melitta,” he began, and for a fraction of a heartbeat she though she saw something like remorse in his eyes. She'd hoped so hard that he would see the light, come to his senses, and renounce the choices he’d made. She’d met other Priors and they seemed to have forgotten their past lives, and he hadn’t. Half the time he didn't even talk like one of them. But then the moment passed and he hissed, “You stand in the way of my righteousness, Melitta. I _will_ convert you.”

“No,” she raised a hand, “No, you won’t. I won’t be your victim, Felix.”

“The ways of the Ori are persuasive, Melitta.”

She didn’t answer him. Her gaze turned inwards. “I’m ready now.”

“What?”

She smiled slightly, sadly, peacefully, before shimmering in front of his eyes and vanishing, leaving nothing but the candlelight and the sweet smell of incense and the sound of her murmuring, “_Chaya_…”

He was still standing there when the marines came.


End file.
